


Secret Santa: Star Wars Edition

by NuclearMcDuck



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Crack Treated Semi-Seriously, M/M, Mistletoe, Post-TLJ, Secret Santa, pre-tros
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-29
Updated: 2020-01-04
Packaged: 2021-02-24 18:07:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22002190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NuclearMcDuck/pseuds/NuclearMcDuck
Summary: Kylux + crack + canon + secret Santa exchangeA harmless old tradition is proposed to draw together the high command of the Finalizer; a simple gift exchange and guessing game to keep the officers from stabbing each other in the back while the Order restructures itself in the wake of Snoke's untimely death.Somehow, Supreme Leader Kylo Ren and General Armitage Hux still manage to turn it into an absolute nightmare.
Relationships: Armitage Hux/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Armitage Hux/Kylo Ren
Comments: 61
Kudos: 336





	1. Lips Sealed with a Kiss

**Author's Note:**

> Shout out to Mystic Milks on Twitter for providing the prompt! I hope that you enjoy it!
> 
> This is a little different to how I usually write, as I was trying to just get it out/ smash my writer's block!
> 
> I swear to anyone who still cares - I have not forgotten I Got You, Babe (⁄ ⁄•⁄ω⁄•⁄ ⁄) I am working on it - slowly (╥ω╥)

The reasoning behind the proposal was simple; bring the officers together at a time when events might otherwise lead them to plot against one another. With resistance rearing its retched head all across the galaxy, they couldn’t afford to be at one anothers’ throats… Anything that could help unite the officer class against the impending threat of an uprising was worth investing a little time in.

Superfluous though it may have seemed, there wasn’t much else to do while the technicians assessed the damage to the Finalizer to decide whether or not it was worth saving her. If they were trapped, they may as well try to bind the command crew together, no matter how frivolous the method.

A member of the old Imperials had suggested it, as it had once been quite the tradition. Even Vader had partaken once, allegedly gifting Tarkin a fine pair of socks – though whether the stories had any basis in reality, Hux couldn’t say. Ren, at least, seemed convinced enough by it that he gave his blessing for the event to go ahead – going so far as to put his own name in the draw.

And Hux, being the most unlucky man in the galaxy, had drawn it out.

He eyed the little slip of paper, carefully not reacting as he folded it and slipped in into his breast pocket. He nodded dutifully as Mitaka moved along to the next officer, holding out the hat filled with names on identical slips of paper, looking utterly delighted by the whole affair.

Secret Admirer was a game in which a pool of people drew a lottery to be assigned a person to give gifts to for a set period of time. The gifts were given at weekly events, and each time a clue was left. By the last event, the receiver had to guess who was their Secret Admirer – and if correct, they could keep the gift. If wrong, they had to forfeit it.

Ren was the last to draw out a name – he plucked it from Mitaka’s hat, unfolding the little slip with his comically large hands. Hux watched as Ren did a double take at the paper, then barked a harsh laugh at the name presented to him. He didn’t look at anyone, though, so it wasn’t clear who it was that amused him so; he held a strong dislike for all of the Imperials, so any of the names may have elicited such a reaction.

With the official Secret Admirer meeting concluded, Hux was left with the troubling question; what did one gift to the Supreme Leader?

* * *

Two days later, and Hux was confident that he had chosen his materials wisely.

Though his first instinct had been to gift a grenade, he had once seen Ren halt an explosion with his accursed powers; all it would do was annoy him, perhaps enough to have Hux permanently and violently removed from his post.

No, instead he had utilised his accrued knowledge of the man behind the mask; on several occasions, he had seen ink stains on Ren’s hands. It wasn’t often than any part of Ren was exposed on the ship, but Hux had reported to him several times after he had returned from one of Snoke’s missions – and often, Ren could be located seeking medical treatment for a myriad of injuries. Ren’s fingertips had often been stained black with ink. Hux had at first thought them in necrosis, before he’d realised what he was seeing – after all, who in the galaxy still used ink and paper?

Kylo Ren, that was who. A beautiful calligraphy set, with a stunning feather quill from some pheasant or other on Endor, and a heavily pigmented red ink, completed with several sheets of the finest vellum, made for a splendid gift. Hux had placed the items in a plain black box, closed with a red ribbon, and attached a small card with his clue (in poem form, as per the tradition);

_Fleeing the remnants of Jakku,_

_In Outer Regions forged anew._

_First in Class, Academy raised,_

_Fled again when Arkanis razed._

He felt it suitably vague, whilst retaining enough details for Ren to begin the guesswork – that was, if Ren hadn’t already read his mind and plucked the information from him (which would most certainly constitute cheating). Many of the younger officers on the Finalizer had been trained on Arkanis, though most had been deployed before the raid that destroyed the settlement there. More concerning was rhyming “raised” with “razed”, though he had never been accused of being a poet, so best to leave it be.

Satisfied for now that his gift would be suitable, he placed it on the side table by his bed, then returned to his desk to continue on the approvals for the repairs on the Finalizer. The ship had sustained severe damage from the debris of the ruined Supremacy, and although Hux would have spent any amount to see her functional again, the Order had other considerations to take into account… His personal attachments couldn’t interfere if she was deemed unsalvageable.

He could only hope, for now.

* * *

The next Secret Admirer meeting was a rousing affair – a platter of fine salted meats and pâtés awaited them, as well as a glass of fine wine. Mitaka had taken pains to arrange something festive for the occasion, including hanging strange plants at seemingly random intervals throughout the room.

Hux approached him as he hung the last floral arrangement over a low table with more refreshments. “Are these part of the tradition?” He asked, eyeing the oblong green leaves, tiny yellow flowers, and white berries with something approaching suspicion.

Mitaka, apparently not having heard him approach, jumped – a sound not unlike a yelp escaping him, though Hux was polite enough to ignore it.

“Oh – yes! Sir,” Mitaka whirled around, clearing his throat. “They – Yes, they are traditional. A hemiparasitic plant, called _Viscum Album_ ; it is said that if two people stand under it, they must either tell one another a secret, or – _well_ ,” Mitaka cleared his throat _again_ , and Hux was ready to tell him to report to medical, when he finally said, “ _Should they_ _rather not share a secret from their lips, they must seal their silence with a kiss_.”

Hux glanced at the plant Mitaka had just hung, eyes narrowing. “… And it’s _tradition_?” He pressed, imagining what secrets he could possibly share that wouldn’t land him in hot water.

“I researched it _most_ thoroughly, sir,” Mitaka assured him.

“Well, it will do,” Hux said dismissively, turning away to greet the arriving officers.

Naturally, Ren only arrived after several calls from Hux; it wouldn’t do for him to miss the festivities and further the divide between himself and the Order. If they were to be truly cohesive going forward, Ren needed to see himself as part of the Order, not the Order as a means to an end for his whims.

Ren did, in fact, grace them with his presence; he swept into the room moments before the opening of the presents and reading of clues. The presents lay in a pile, wrapped in varying shades of grey, black, and white, with the occasional red accent. Hux privately thought that _his_ present looked the neatest.

The droids that had carried arranged the presents also passed them out to their recipients, and each officer chortled over the gifts, and loudly speculated over the clues in the poems – when they weren’t mocking the prose.

“Rhyming ‘ _fits’_ with ’ _prints’_? Really?” Peavey laughed, showing the card off to Unamo, who laughed agreeably. “And why do you suppose his ‘ _uniform never fits_ ’? Do you suppose he’s too large, or too small?”

“I’m more interested in why he thinks you will know what manner of prints he has on his n _on-regulation_ pajamas?” Unamo chirped in reply.

Across from them, Thanisson blushed terribly.

“Your gift, General,” A droid interrupted his snooping, passing Hux a small, unadorned box, with no card apparent on the outside.

“Thank you,” He said, delicately taking the gift; it was light, so light that he wondered if it were empty. Putting his tumbler of wine down on a nearby table, he carefully lifted the lid off -

Socks.

Not nice socks; just standard, regulation, black socks. Hux picked them up, but couldn’t see a note or card. He put the socks on the table and held the box upside down, but no note was forthcoming.

It was only when he gave up and was about to close the box again that he noticed a delicate script written on the inside of the lid -

“ _An enemy_.”

Hux frowned; that wasn’t very in the intended spirit of the whole affair. He glanced around the room, but no one appeared to be looking his way, too caught up in guessing and drinking and cajoling. Thannison was showing off a lewd photo he’d been gifted, laughing merrily; Mitaka was trying to escape being cornered under one of the Viscum Album plants by Peavey; And their Supreme Leader -

Ren was at a table by himself, given a wide berth by the officers. The ribbon Hux had neatly tied was in tatters – Ren had apparently torn it, rather than simply untie it – and his gifts spread out in front of Ren to inspect.

Hux frowned; he couldn’t tell if what Ren was expressing was positive. He picked up each part of the gift – the exotic quill, the high-quality ink block, the fine vellum – and inspected it, eyes raking over it like he couldn’t quite believe it was real.

As though he could sense Hux’s gaze, Ren’s head whipped up, and for a moment their eyes met – before Hux hurriedly looked away, grabbing his drink from the table and downing it in one go. When he dared to glance back, Ren was looking around the room, eyes roaming over the guests with a fierce intensity.

Hux wasn’t sure if that was a good reaction, but at least he would two more chances to gift things that the Supreme Leader might enjoy.

… And hopefully the array of nice presents would teach his _own_ Admirer to step up their abysmal game.

* * *

Someone on this ship knew too much about him.

Someone knew about his calligraphy, which was something he did only in the safety of his own quarters, where not a camera, droid, or soul ever saw, save for himself.

Kylo hadn’t wanted to show up to the colossal waste of time that was _Secret Admirer_ , and if not for Hux’s unwavering insistence, he wouldn’t have. Now, though… He would have to quite genuinely figure out who was behind the gift that spoke of an intimacy with his life that no one on board could possibly have.

It would only be a week before the next round of gift exchanges, and he needed to narrow down his suspect list by then.

A quick review of all of the participant’s files revealed that all of the officers below the age of forty had been trained on Arkanis, and most had been the top of their class. The Finalizer, it seemed, only accepted the very best.

That might have made narrowing it down harder, were it not for the fact that the battle at Jakku had been raised; the officers had to be at least thirty to have been present. So a top-of-their-class Arkanis-raised officer between the ages of thirty and forty – that narrowed it down to about one-third of the participants.

For now, he would have to bide his time, wait for his _Admirer_ to show their hand – or, ideally, take the information from them by force.

At the very least, Hux had looked affronted at his gift; Kylo had taken a pair of socks he knew would be one size too small for the General, straight from the laundry room. The man had been seething for a good portion of the event, and Kylo had quietly enjoyed that from afar. If only it hadn’t been marred by the knowledge that someone there knew too much, he might even have said that he enjoyed himself.

* * *

Hux wasn’t sure what to get the Supreme Leader for the next gift.

The first round of gift-giving had shown the variety of gifts that his officers had deemed appropriate; alcohol, exotic sweets, some articles of clothing (none as egregiously ill-thought out as the tiny socks he’d received) - borderline pornographic photos in the case of Thanisson, but otherwise simply standard fare as far as gifts to one’s professional contacts went.

Obviously, Hux’s gift to Ren was the best. As the Admirer for the Supreme Leader, he would continue to seek out only the very best – demonstrate that he was the most capable in all things, even in something as inane as this old tradition.

He and Ren had been working together for over five years now, and Hux thought long and hard over what he could give; there wasn’t time to source a Vader artefact, although Hux knew Ren had always been disproportionately excited over the damnable things. He could put out a call for Sith artefacts, though, and have it brought with the next delivery of goods to the Finalizer. He sent a few messages to other ships, putting out an alert that any new discoveries of Sith relics were to be sent straight to the Finalizer, but continued to plan the next gift; after all, a Sith relic may not arrive for weeks.

What did Ren enjoy, other than pretending to be Darth Vader, and using archaic, obsolete methods of transcription?

He enjoyed fighting a great deal, it seemed – a sparring droid, perhaps, engineered to match Ren’s skills?

… That was something that he could achieve.

Within the day he had a functional prototype, completely loaded with the learning software used for advanced battle simulation. He spent the next two days modifying it with footage and analysis of Kylo Ren in battle, the machine absorbing terabytes of data like a sponge.

After testing his creation on a series of (inferior) sparring droids, he was satisfied that it would be an appropriate gift. He had achieved precious little else this week, but appeasing the Supreme Leader was as important a task as any; he could only hope that Ren liked it.

* * *

He’d had no luck in tracking down his stalker.

He’d tried probing the minds of some of the suspects, but had found very little of use; Mitaka, for example, had been thinking only of ways to trap Hux under one of his kissing plants ( _blegh_!), and Thanisson had been thinking only of the soft pornography he’d received, wistfully staring at the asses of the bridge officers and wondering who his secret beau was.

Others had been similarly useless – he’d mostly managed to check a few names off of his list of suspects. Unamo had been thinking of what else she could procure for Colonel Kaplan, which indicated that she was not his Secret Admirer.

He could have forced his way further into their minds, but there seemed little point; it was hard to push that far into someone’s mind without them becoming aware of it. At least his suspect pool had narrowed to a select few – and the next round of gifts would bring with it a new clue.

He did make a point of slipping a suggestion into Lieutenant Mitaka’s mind before he left the man’s mind entirely; after all, it would be easier to slip into the heads of the top brass if they were inebriated.

He also tasked a random droid with procuring a small set of undergarments to gift, ready to present Hux with more useless items of clothing.

* * *

This time Mitaka really had gone too far, Hux thought, surveying the room.

The streamers were, more often than not, adorned with those tell-tale white-berried plants. It was a veritable landmine just to get to the drinks table.

And the drinks table! Harder liquors than had been on offer last time, as well as a variety of vibrantly coloured shots, lined the table. If Hux had known, he might not have drunk quite so many fingers of brandy before arriving.

The rest of the officers arrived promptly, filling the room with loud chatter as they hurried to the drinks table.

Some, alarmingly, went straight for the shots – Hux resisted the temptation to check their rosters and see when they were next to be at their station. After all, the whole point was to bring them together. He would discipline them once they were drunk on duty. For now, Hux opted to join them. He was halfway to the drinks table when Mitaka ran into him, babbling apologies as he adjusted his hat.

“At ease,” Hux laughed, already a little drunk from his private stash of brandy.

Mitaka laughed, too – smiling wider than Hux had even seen from him. “You’re in a good mood, sir,” He noted.

Hux almost sneered at him, but it was true – he’d completed the droid for Ren, and he had word that a Sith relic would arrive on the Finalizer before the next round of gifts. Also, he was lightly buzzed. Out loud, he said, “Quite; and the same for you, it seems?”

Mitaka took in a deep breath, eyes wide as he glanced upwards. “Oh - the Viscum Album!” He said, pointing a gloved hand at the plant hanging above their heads.

Hux looked at it, and sighed wearily. “Well, I suppose it’s tradition,” He acquiesced, amused by how Mitaka lit up with excitement.

“What secret do I owe you?” He said, tapping his lower lip in thought. “How about – I once snuck a loth cat onboard, and kept it with me for three years?”

Mitaka stared at him, jaw slack.

“Oh, come now – it wasn’t that bad! She was exceedingly well-behaved,” Hux said, straightening his posture a little under Mitaka’s unnerving stare.

It almost seemed like Mitaka didn’t have anything to say, so Hux prompted him, “Don’t you owe me a secret, now?”

Mitaka’s trance broke, and he nodded, “Yes, of course – Uh… I’m allergic to carrots!”

“That’s… Unfortunate,” Hux ventured, eyeing the drinks table.

“… Yes, sir,” Mitaka said, a light sweat breaking out on his forehead.

“I will leave you to it,” Hux hurried to grab a drink, downing two shots before finally taking a glass of what appeared to be some manner of cocktail.

The gift-opening went on as per usual, with droids delivering the gifts to the party-goers. Ren walked in towards the end, when most of the guests were already raucously drunk, and sat at the edge of the party, glaring at anyone who dared to approach him.

Hux was excited to see Ren’s reaction to his gift, though it would be best if he didn’t activate it here… Starting a sparring match in a room full of drunk officers sounded like a good way to get someone killed.

Once again, Thanisson was gifted a lewd photo, to great guffaws from the officers around him. Mitaka opened a romantic novel of some description, which he kept attempting to hide from everyone, which only made the officers around him more determined to catch a glimpse of it. Unamo proudly brandished a new caf thermos, which boasted the ability to actively heat the caf, not just keep it warm.

Hux hoped that he received something similar, but he wasn’t foolish enough to hope too hard.

His expectations were met when he was handed another box, incredibly light, and he hoped that the socks would at least fit him this time.

He was surprised to open it to reveal a small thong, black and made of a stretchy fabric. Was this some sort of joke? Was this supposed to be a lewd offering, akin to Thanisson’s gifts? Why the _socks_ , then?

If he were to attempt to wear it, he doubted very much that it would even cover his manhood – a thought that had him blushing to the tips of his ears.

He checked the lid quickly - “ _Five years too long_ ” - and then hurriedly closed the gift; the command crew seemed to delight in mocking one another over lascivious gifts, and he would rather not deal with that today; particularly not in front of _Ren_.

… Ren, who was staring at the large box placed in front of him warily. Hux watched eagerly as Kylo gingerly lifted the lid, the confusion on his face only growing as he uncovered the droid, folded neatly inside.

He watched Ren read the little card he’d left inside, hoping his attempt at poetry wasn’t overly trite.

* * *

_Imperial father, mother unknown,_

_Chosen to lead by Admiral Sloane -_

_Trained for a multitude of careers;_

_Officer, physicist, aerospace engineer_

Kylo glared at the card, which did nothing to elucidate just what this gift was. There were a million droids in the halls and maintenance tunnels on the _Finalizer_ ; what was so special about this one, that it had been gifted to him? He could order one to his room at any time.

… Though it appear to be a training droid, hard as it was to tell with it curled up into a rectangle, long limbs tucked into its chest cavity. He weighed the pros and cons of testing it here and now, aware that it might be designed to kill him – if that were the case, it would be satisfying to leave the officers in the room to its mercy; after all, one of them had arranged this.

He knew that he couldn’t, though. He needed these people – he couldn’t command a ship that held six-hundred thousand crew all by himself.

So he let the droid lie in its casing, summoning a drink into his hand with the force. The way the drink hit Hux in the head on its way from the serving table to his hand was purely “accidental”.

He grinned into his drink, pretending that he didn’t see Hux (slightly damp from having part of a colourful cocktail spilled over his head) approaching him like an incoming storm.

“Supreme Leader,” He greeted tersely.

Kylo didn’t look his way while he finished taking a long draught of his drink, savouring both the tart flavour and the bitterness emanating from the General as he waited impatiently.

“… Hux,” Kylo acknowledged, wiping his mouth with the back of one hand, putting the now-empty martini glass down on the table. “Did you know that you’re all wet?”

Hux bristled, and Kylo’s grin deepened.

“That is your fault,” Hux said darkly, fists clenched.

“I make you wet?” Kylo asked innocently, twirling the little toothpick with a cherry around his empty glass.

Hux sputtered, seemingly lost for words, and Kylo counted it as a victory. He watched Hux rub at his temple, looking skyward as though an answer would drop from the ceiling -

And apparently one did, if the manic grin that appeared on Hux’s face was anything to go by.

“Viscum Album” He said triumphantly.

Kylo looked up, seeing only a party decoration – one of the many – consisting of a strange bouquet of plants with deep green leaves and white berries.

“Now you have to tell me a secret!” Hux declared, apropos of nothing.

“Do I, now?” Kylo laughed. “And why do I have to do that?”

Hux actually scoffed at him. “It’s tradition, Ren – if you stand under the Viscum Album, you have to either tell a secret, or kiss. So what secrets do you have to share?”

Kylo could detect no deception from Hux – it seemed that this was a real part of the festivities. “So I tell you one, and you tell me one?” He asked carefully.

“That’s how it works,” Hux said, looking terribly pleased with himself.

“… You go first,” Kylo said, crossing his arms.

“I once snuck a loth cat on board, and kept her with me for three years,” Hux said easily, before nodding expectantly at Kylo.

“… No, you didn’t,” Kylo challenged; who was Hux to demand a secret from him, when he himself lied?

“I did!” Hux countered, fuming.

“I would have sensed your demon cat if it had been around your quarters,” Kylo pressed.

“You don’t go in my quarters, and it was before we met!” Hux spat back. “I’ve told you my secret; you tell me yours!”

“Fine,” Kylo groused, a cursory glimpse into Hux’s mind proving that the loth cat story was, in fact, real. “… My birth name was Ben Solo.”

“Really, Ren?” Hux arched a delicate brow. “Did you also know that my hair is red? That’s not a secret; everyone _knows_.”

… He might have to concede on that one. But what else could he say? He didn’t want to raise the topic of the scavenger girl, or his link to her. He didn’t want to bring up anything personal about himself. He didn’t want to share anything with Hux, really.

Perhaps he could turn this situation around, and get one up on Hux.

“… You said that there was another option?” He asked coyly.

Hux paused. “What?”

“Rather than share a secret, what was it we can do…?”

“You’re not serious,” Hux snapped, crossing his arms.

Ren moved to grab Hux’s arm, causing Hux to stiffen. “Pucker up, Armitage,” He cooed mockingly, pulling a stuttering Hux close enough to peck on the cheek.

Hux didn’t stop sputtering after he was released, rubbing at his face as though he’d been touched by something filthy. “ _Ren_!” He said acidly, practically shaking with rage. “The _entire command crew_ is here!”

“So you’d prefer I kiss you where they can’t see?” And Kylo couldn’t help but admire the way that Hux turned a shade of red that put his hair to shame, before spinning on his heel and marching back to his table.

Hux was entirely too easy to rile up. Too bad Kylo was no closer to finding out who his secret admirer was; he would have to test the droid at the earliest opportunity, see what it did; it might have a clue as to who knew so much about his personal affairs.

* * *

Hux was right about the panties; they failed to cover him completely. The side of his shaft was visible, the tiny scrap of fabric taut over his length.

It wasn’t a bad look, though it was unlikely that anyone else would ever see it. He had considered depositing them straight into the incinerator, but curiosity had seized him, and now he had to admit that his arse did look particularly pert in the thong, especially when paired with boots with a slightly raised heel.

… It would be wasteful to incinerate this harmless piece of fabric. If he were to wear it beneath a uniform, no one would be the wiser.

* * *

The droid was clearly designed to kill him.

He had taken it to his personal training room to test it, only to narrowly avoid its first attack – and then to take a direct hit from its second attack a millisecond later. It wielded a shock baton like a light sabre, and within minutes, it was clear that this was no ordinary battle droid.

This droid knew him; knew his moves, knew his counters - knew how to counter him. He’d taken several hits from its baton before he managed to keep pace with the blasted thing.

Strange, that it’s attacks should be non-lethal?

He hadn’t time to dwell on it, though, defending himself from another barrage. Kylo liked to keep on the offensive, but this droid was determined not to give him an opening to attack.

He started to work up a sweat by the time he decided that he had had enough, and used the force to send the thing crashing into the wall.

The droid was yet more proof that his admirer knew too much about him; this was apparently someone who’d studied his fighting style, who knew how he moved and thought and strategized. Who _was_ the fething bastard that knew how to program a lowly sparring droid to challenge him?

… It was a useful tool, though; he hadn’t had such a satisfying training session since he’d last sparred with his knights. He sent a message to maintenance to repair the droid and leave it in his training room. Why waste a valuable gift, even if its source was questionable?

Wiping sweat from his forehead, he gathered his cloak and made his way back to his rooms, as keen to shower as he was to work on the mystery of who his admirer could possibly be.


	2. Mustafar Sunrise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hux is unhappy about many things, and the lacklustre gifts are the straw breaking his back. But he's not going to sit and pout about it, no! He has a strategy for the next gift exchange.
> 
> Kylo is searching for his secret stalker... Until he is given his latest gift.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's another chapter after this one... I got impatient to post, so here's a mini chapter to carry us through to the finale!

General Hux had many extremely important duties to attend to today.

First, he had to sit in a holo-call meeting with one of their colonies, to advise on the suppression of a rebellion amongst the miners there (more important than ever, given the damage done to their fleet). Then he had to argue for the Finalizer’s repair costs, and he had yet to sit down and finish the cost-benefit analysis of saving her. After that, he needed to be part of the negotiations with some of the Order’s former benefactors, and ensure their ongoing support in the wake of Snoke’s demise. Once that was all done, he would finally be able to look at the overall running of the ship and her crew as part of his regular duties.

So it was with considerable consternation that he put all of that aside to confront Kylo Ren’s abuse of his bridge crew.

“Supreme Leader,” He said sternly, interrupting the staring contest he’d been engaged in with a shaking Lieutenant Mitaka.

“General,” Ren acknowledged, keeping his eyes trained on Mitaka.

Hux sighed heavily. “Would you care to explain why you are terrorising the crew?”

Ren shot him a poisonous glare, before turning his attention back to the hapless Lieutenant.

“Permission to speak fr-freely, s-sirs?” Mitaka stammered.

“Granted,” Hux said, at the same moment Ren growled, “Denied.”

Mitaka’s eyes darted between them, looking utterly lost.

Hux was ready to hurl his datapad at the Supreme Leader’s head, when Ren finally straightened up and looked away, a deep scowl set in his features.

“Useless,” He growled, before sweeping towards the door in a flurry of black fabric.

“Ren!” Hux barked sharply, following him out of the bridge. “What was that about?!”

He easily kept pace with Ren as he stalked down the halls, a dark aura emanating from him that spoke of danger – or immaturity, in Hux’s opinion.

“It’s none of your business,” Ren said, walking faster.

Hux matched his speed. “It is when you are interfering with the operations on the bridge.”

Ren stopped suddenly, and Hux almost skidded to a halt as he whirled around to face Ren, who was standing in the middle of the hall with a considering look on his face.

“Perhaps _you_ can assist me, General?” He said, the scowl softening into an unnerving smile – before Hux was suddenly struck by a terribly headache.

“Are you – Get out of my head, Ren!” Hux shouted, clutching at his head as Ren probed his mind. “I haven’t had enough caf to deal with this today!”

Already behind schedule, Hux opted to give up on figuring out what Ren’s damage was this morning – he marched past Ren and made his way back to the bridge, only feeling Ren’s influence leaving his head once he made it to the blast doors.

Several of his crew members jumped as he stormed in, boots clacking loudly in his anger. He strode down the central aisle, hands clasped behind his back beneath his greatcoat, needing to take a moment to calm himself before taking his datapad out of his greatcoat and resuming his duties.

A quick glance at Mitaka, still clearly shaken from having his mind invaded by Kylo Ren, made his anger flare again.

His mood was soured further by the fact that Ren’s meddling in his mind had stirred memories of what he was most recently upset about – the damage to the Finalizer, his harmless secret shared during that blasted plant tradition reminding him of how he missed Millicent, and his disappointment in his less-than-thoughtful secret admirer; everyone else had bought into the spirit of the game, and yet Hux was somehow sidled with the one person who would rather rain on Hux’s parade than participate.

He hadn’t thought it would affect him this much, but to see the joy that the other officers took from it, only to be left with items that seemed to be deliberately joyless stung. He might have liked to participate in conversations with his crew about their gifts, but how could he, when he didn’t want to show them what he had received? It served to isolate him from his crew at a time when cohesion was more important than ever.

… And maybe that was the point, and Hux was playing into his “admirer’s” hand? After all, they identified themselves as an enemy (which was fine, lots of people – officers included – would consider Hux an enemy), so perhaps they wanted Hux to be isolated from his command crew at this event specifically designed to bring them together?

Hux glared at the stars, twinkling beautifully through the view-port, concocting a plan to rectify his separation from his crew. At the next event, no matter how awful the gift, he would converse with the other officers; be part of their conversations; be involved. That would throw a wrench in the works of his useless secret admirer.

* * *

Kylo went back to his rooms, mind ticking over the snippets he’d managed to snatch from Hux’s

mind.

… It was strange. On the surface, Hux’s only emotions had appeared to be purely rage and frustration; digging deeper, however, unearthed more melancholy feelings. Grief over the state of the ship, which he seemed to consider an extension of himself and his career; visions of a fat, orange cat, purring and curling up beside him; and, most bizarrely, a great deal of hurt over his lacklustre gifts.

The cumulative sadness of Hux’s woes had fuelled his fury, putting the General in a terribly foul mood.

Kylo chuckled over the knowledge that the poor gifts were getting to him – at least that was something amusing that he got out of the exchange. Sadly, he hadn’t had time to reach far enough into Hux’s mind to determine whose secret admirer he was. He may have still been on the ever-shrinking suspect list, but the gifts were too nice that Hux might have sent them; the man hated him too much to go to such lengths.

Mitaka’s mind had been a joy to play around in, though not terribly useful – he could cross his name off the suspect list, at least. The only downside would be trying to erase the fantasies the Lieutenant had about Hux from his own mind. In Mitaka’s mind, Hux was softer on the eye, hair soft and legs long, sometimes clad head to toe in his signature black uniform, and other times barely clad in anything at all. Sometimes giving orders to be pleasured, other times giving control to his lover. Sometimes on all fours, sometimes against the wall, sometimes in the shower-

_\- No!_ He had to stop thinking about that.

He needed to rest, meditate, and clear his mind of all thoughts of copper happy trails and legs that just kept going.

* * *

Hux had prepared for the next gift giving session.

He would no longer be sidelined or outside the social cliques. He would converse, drink, and be – as near as he could manage – _fun_. This was the last gift exchange before the guessing round, so he had to make up for lost time.

And to make things even better, a team had sourced an interesting Vader relic from the ruins of the Supremacy, presumably kept close at hand by Snoke. Hux wasn’t sure if the Supreme Leader had seen it before, but he was sure that he would be pleased with it.

He came to the party sans greatcoat, wearing the gift from the last session beneath his jodhpurs, ready to drink and be _merry_.

Mitaka was quick to come up to him, offering a vibrant red-orange drink.

“Thank you, Dopheld,” Hux said, taking a tentative sip.

Mitaka’s face lit in a grin. “You’re welcome, sir!”

“You may refer to me as Hux for the evening, if you wish,” Hux allowed, licking the taste of the bitter drink from his lips. “This is lovely; what is it?”

“It’s- uh, we are calling it a _Mustafar Sunrise_ – based on the colour, you see,” Mitaka stammered. “Bitterfruit liquor, sunfruit liquor, with just a _touch_ of sashin-leaf mead.”

As Mitaka spoke, Hux easily downed half of the glass in one go. “Wonderful,” He complimented, and Mitaka beamed.

“Shall I fetch you another, sir- I mean, Hux?”

It was a little funny how Mitaka blushed when he dared to use the General’s name, rather than his title. “Why don’t I join you?” Hux offered, and they approached the drinks table together.

By the time Kylo Ren bothered to show up, Hux had already ingratiated himself amongst the largest table of gathered officers. Thanisson was taking bets on what body part would be featured in the latest photo that he was sure to be gifted.

“I’ve had legs with a hint of asscheeks, and one of the hips and belly – all bare. Will the next photo reveal my mystery admirer’s gender?” He called playfully, scribbling people’s bets on a napkin.

Hux bet on a shot of their chest, but others seemed to think the clavicle was more likely. Unamo had laughed and bet it would be feet, on account of, “your sick perversions, Thanisson,” which had the whole table in peals of laughter.

Ren glared at them from a table near the door, and Hux subtly shifted around the table so that he could position himself to watch Kylo; he wanted to see him open his gift.

“Hux, what have you been gifted so far?” Peavey asked suddenly, and a hush fell over the conversation as all eyes flew to Hux.

Hux made a show of rolling his eyes and groaning. “Only the most useless things – my admirer doesn’t care for me overly much. Socks and underwear that are too small for me. Too small!”

The table laughed heartily at that, though Unamo looked thoughtful. “Nice ones?” She inquired. “I had my eye on some nice gaberwool socks with little patterns on – on the toe, mind you, not visible in uniform!”

“No, no pattern – _regulation_ ,” Hux said, lifting his glass to his lips before adding, “The socks, at least.”

Thanisson was, naturally, the first to pick up on the innuendo. “… So the underwear _wasn’t_ regulation?”

“See for yourself,” Hux said with a smirk, pulling his tunic up enough to undo his jodhpurs, sliding them down so a strip of taut black fabric was visible over the sharp “v” of his hips.

The whole table tripped over themselves to catch a glimpse, the black thong strap stark against the shock of white skin exposed.

Across the room, he saw Ren spit the wine he was sipping through his nose in an impressive spray.

“Sir!” Mitaka gasped, hands having flown to his red face, though he was peeking between his fingers.

“Can I take a holo?” Peavey wheezed through heaving laughter.

The rest of the officers couldn’t compose themselves long enough to form coherent sentences, cackling and banging fists on the table even as Hux moved to close his trousers and smooth down his tunic.

“That was my gift to you all,” He said haughtily, to a round of renewed laughter.

“I will cherish it!” Screeched Thanisson, throat hoarse from laughing.

“We should do this every year,” Peavey added, wiping tears from his eyes.

“ _Gifts_!” Unamo cried suddenly, pointing to the droids approaching.

While the others were distracted by the offerings the droids bought, Hux stole a glance at Ren – still wiping his face with a cloth, but yet to receive his gift.

Unamo was the first to receive hers, and she tore into it. “A flask – a cooling flask!” She said excitedly, holding up the black flask for appraisal. A single blue button in the shape of the first order symbol was on the front, which presumably cooled the contents when pressed.

She then set about decoding her clue, while another droid placed a gift in front of Mitaka; another of his holo-novels, contained in a small disk in a case with the title and a small image to represent the plot.

“What’s this one, then?” Thanisson giggled, trying to snatch it from Mitaka’s hands.

Mitaka was quick to dodge him, holding it behind his back – only to be taken surprise by Hux, who plucked it from his hand. Mitaka spun around, harsh words on his lips dying when he saw who was holding the disk.

“’Star Destroying His Hole-’” Hux couldn’t stop himself from dissolving into helpless laughter, as did the rest of the table (save Mitaka, who was crawling _under_ the table).

“Th-there’s more!” Hux wheezed. He held up the disk so they could see the little title card image, depicting two men wearing crude replica First Order costumes, embracing in front of – hilariously – an Alpha-3 Nimbus-class V-wing starfighter, _not_ a Star Destroyer.

“The by-line...” Hux gasped for breath, bringing the case up to his face to make out the small text, “’He thought it was a blaster under the captain’s coat… Turns out-’” He snorted, struggling not to crack up again, “’Turns out that there’s a _hard_ truth there’ - Hard is _capitalised_!”

Their table had devolved into howls and shrieks of laughter, Thanisson nearly falling out of his seat, only to be caught by Colonel Kaplan - even Mitaka peeked his head out, giggling despite how red his face was.

“Come out now, Dopheld,” Hux said, bending at the waist to look under the table. “Come out of there before I load the chip in my datapad and actually start _reading_ it.”

Thanisson squealed in delight and began chanting, “Do it! Do it!”, while Mitaka knocked his head on the underside of the table in his haste to get out.

More gifts made their way around the table, and everyone’s focus fell again to Hux when he received his plain, black box. Hux finished the last of his (sixth?) drink, before delicately lifting the lid, the officers around him craning their necks to get a glimpse of -

\- A plain, black bra, the size “10B” in plain grey print on the back of it.

The table lost it again, and Hux let them pass it around as they guffawed and giggled. It felt… Much better, to make light of the terrible gifts, rather than quietly sulk over them.

“Why do you suppose your admirer got you a bra?” Mitaka asked, holding it up over his chest as though he were appraising whether he would fit into it.

“I assume to match the panties,” Hux said, deadpan. “A shame, though – it should be obvious that I’m an A-cup.”

Peavey choked on his drink at that, while Thanisson returned to bashing his closed fist on the table, chest heaving with laughter.

Even looking at the “clue” - “ _A clone army would have less chance of deserting_ ” - failed to burst his happy bubble.

He waved down a droid for another drink, grinning like an absolute fool.

* * *

Ren glowered at the table across from him, cursing Hux’s theatrics.

Why the hell had the General pulled his damn pants down? Why was he _wearing_ the blasted panties-?!

It had reminded him, uncomfortably, of the fantasies from Mitaka’s head, that he had been unable to vanquish entirely. Only it was real, and right in front of him, and he was wearing the panties Kylo _gave_ him.

He didn’t want to think of Hux that way, but somehow he couldn’t stop himself; Hux was dressed down for the evening, as well, usually swimming in his giant coat and hair gelled to be as stiff as a rock. Now Kylo could admire his trim waist and long legs, his soft hair sometimes falling around his face until a gloved hand tucked it back into place… A hint of pale wrist peeking out each time he did so.

He kicked a passing droid, demanding another drink. He nearly knocked over the gift that it was holding for him, though he caught it with the force and brought it up to his table.

He undid the delicately wrapped ribbon, feeling a strange shift in the force around him. He stared at the lid a moment, trying to focus on that strange presence… What could this possibly be? Some force trap? Had his obsessed admirer found some force-strong relic-?

He lifted the lid, and heard himself gasp.

He knew what this was.

His hand hovered over it reverently, before he brought his fingers to curl around the grip.

He ignited it, and was instantly bathed in an arc of glowing red light.

This was Darth Vader’s lightsabre.

He glanced around the room, suddenly aware that everyone had gone silent, staring at him – only one person didn’t look afraid.

He locked eyes with General Hux, and upon prodding, found his mind more malleable and open than before; likely due to his evident inebriation…

… And the thought at the forefront of his mind was, “ _Stars, I_ _hope he likes it_.”

It was Hux.

Hux was his secret admirer.

He turned the sabre off, tucked it into his belt, and left the room.


	3. Dance, Dance, Revelation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An unexpected arrival heralds the worst for the _Finalizer_ and her crew... Until their guests are pulled into the sway of Secret Admirer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little late! But it ended up being a little longer than I thought it would be... I had too many silly ideas. Is there such a genre as " _tooth-rotting crack_ "?
> 
> ... The dance they do is based on Cossack dancing, because every time I see it, I think of the First Order ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡ – ✧)
> 
> An update for IGYB - I probably won't manage to update it before the 6th (´༎ຶ ͜ʖ ༎ຶ `) Rest assured, I am trying my best ᕦ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)ᕤ
> 
> Please enjoy~ (... ᵃⁿᵈ ᶜᵒᵐᵐᵉⁿᵗ (☞ ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)☞ )

Kylo’s thoughts were a whirlwind as he stomped back to his rooms.

How the kriff did Hux know so much about him? Why did he go to such lengths for him? How did he fething get _Darth Vader’s lightsabre_?!

And how would he react when Kylo had given him useless undergarments?

( _… Though he’d certainly been making use of the panties-_ )

He needed to know Hux’s motivations. He needed to get into his mind, find out what Hux’s plan was; then he could decide how to proceed.

In the meantime, he needed to source a suitable display case for his grandfather’s lightsabre.

* * *

Hux surveyed the bridge, grateful for the dark colour scheme and low lights, sipping a caf to try and banish his persistent headache. He had drunk rather a lot at the gift exchange last night, and stayed with the officers until an in-advisably late hour.

He opted to give his officers a three-hour amnesty this morning, glancing at Mitaka’s form drooped over his console, typing with one finger on each hand. Peavey hadn’t even worn a belt today, an offence which would usually have Hux in conniptions.

If Hux weren’t so affected himself, he would say something. But for now, they would be allowed to wallow in the consequences of their festivities last night.

He heard the blast doors slide open behind him, and he glanced over his shoulder at the unexpected intrusion, sipping at his caf.

Kylo Ren stormed onto the bridge.

He finished his sip and turned back to the view port, eyes trained on his datapad. The Supreme Leader was the only one on the bridge who was completely sober and free of a hangover this morning, and it wouldn’t do to look like he was slacking.

Unnervingly, Ren came to stand directly behind Hux, his breath making the hairs at the base of his skull stand on end.

“Supreme Leader,” Hux acknowledged politely.

“Hux,” Ren said, still standing too close.

Perhaps this was a punishment for being hungover on the bridge. He doubted that his headache could get much worse, but if anyone could manage it, it was Ren.

And speak of the devil, thinking of the pain in his head seemed to have intensified it, and he stared unseeingly at his datapad while he tried to regain his bearings.

Unbidden, thoughts rose to the surface of his mind; the secret admirer exchange, gifts for Ren – how was he going to top the lightsabre? He should have saved that for the final gift…

His mind shifted to how he had sourced the sabre – perhaps whatever was left in Snoke’s chambers would contain something of equal or similar value?

What else did he know about Kylo Ren, and what he liked?

He knew about the calligraphy from the ink stains, he used the security footage and battle simulator software to make the droid…

What else was there to Ren, other than his stunning physique?

He felt the Supreme Leader shift behind him, and he jolted at the sudden awareness of his surroundings. But Ren said nothing, and it was easy to fall back into ruminating…

He had luscious hair. Perhaps some kind of hair product? But Hux knew precious little about hair styling other than gelling it into military cleanliness, and Kylo was clearly doing fine with his current routine. Besides, following up a grand relic with a hair spray? Ludicrous.

Perhaps some sort of scented oil to rub into his skin. To prevent chafing in that ridiculous getup of his, of course. Ren looked like someone had vaccu-sealed skin over muscle, so the oil would add a nice sheen to-

Ren marched away, and Hux fumbled with his datapad, realising he’d been holding it and doing nothing the entire time Ren had been standing behind him.

It was so unlike him to space out and let his mind wander – in front of the Supreme Leader, no less! Hux took another sip of caf before depositing his thermos on Unamo’s console (he pretended that he didn’t see her sleeping with her eyes open) and threw himself back into his morning duties.

* * *

Hux was cornered again when he went to the officers’ lounge closest to the bridge. He had no intention of eating lunch, his stomach turning at the thought of food while his liver was still trying to process the liquor, but he wanted to sit down, and perhaps nap while he could.

The opportunity was lost when Kylo Ren followed him into the room and took a seat beside him on one of the low couches. It was the best seat, right in front of the viewport, the darkness of space laid out before them.

Hux withheld a sigh and sat straight, rather than lounging as he would have preferred to. He crossed his legs, at least, as Ren sat with his thighs spread wide, as was his wont. He took up about two thirds of the couch that way, but his thighs _were_ quite thick, so Hux could hardly blame him for it.

They sat like that for a few moments, and Hux wasn’t sure what was expected of him, if anything.

Finally, Ren broke the silence. “… Did you enjoy the party last night?”

Hux turned to Ren, trying to gauge what that meant. “… Yes?”

Ren nodded, but said nothing further. He kept his eyes on the stars outside.

Was he expecting Hux to fill the silence? “And… You?” He asked awkwardly. “Did you enjoy the party?”

Kylo took a moment to answer. “… Yes.”

“You left very early,” Hux said as casually as he could.

“I just don’t understand it,” Ren said suddenly, shifting his weight around the couch.

Hux waited for him to elaborate, idly fiddling with the hem of his tunic.

“The officers – they hate each other. Yet they have worked so hard to provide the finest gifts for one another. Why is that?” Ren’s dark eyes suddenly bored into him.

“Well...” Hux swallowed; Ren’s intensity was overwhelming at the best of times, but that look focused on him had him pinned in place. “It’s a _team-building_ exercise, Re – _ahem_ , Supreme Leader. The entire point is to bring people together.”

“Bring together people who hate each other? Who would kill one another as quickly as they would serve them?” Ren pressed.

“Yes,” Hux said simply. “No one man can run an army alone, Ren. The command crew of a ship need to be tightly knit, no matter what machinations individuals may have to further their personal agendas. Weaknesses and splits at the top when we are vulnerable are too dangerous to allow. The Order needs stability above all else right now… Like it or not, we _need_ each other.”

Ren’s eyes turned back to the viewport. Once again, Hux wasn’t sure what was expected of him… Ren was in a strange mood.

“We need each other,” Ren repeated, brows furrowed.

“Precisely,” Hux said, wishing he could end this conversation and go back to the bridge, nap be damned.

Ren stood abruptly, his cape sweeping around him as he quickly left the lounge.

Hux watched as the doors slid shut behind him with a hydraulic hiss, before finally slumping on the chair and waving over a droid. “A double-shot caf and a stim injection, please,” He ordered, then splayed his legs over the couch and readied himself to nap.

* * *

Hux was glad for his chemically-induced wakefulness when they received a communication from another ship in the fleet that had been sent to collect them.

“Admiral Griss is requesting we open communications,” Mitaka cried, suddenly more alert than Hux had seen him all morning.

“ _Griss_?” Hux gasped, hurrying to Mitaka’s terminal. “Does that mean-? Nevermind, patch them through.”

Mitaka wasted no time in opening the channel, and Hux hurried to the catwalk to converse on the bridge-wide holo.

“Admiral Griss,” Hux greeted, as the man’s visage flickered into electric blue light. “We are honoured to be visited by High Command.”

“The honour is all yours, General,” Came a familiar voice that sent chills down Hux’s spine.

He schooled his face as best he was able as Enric Pryde came into the shot, exactly as arrogant and distasteful as Hux remembered him, though time had ravaged his features.

“Allegiant General,” Hux acknowledged, fighting down bile. “Thank you for coming to our aid, but we are waiting on parts for the _Finalizer_ before she can be-”

He fell silent as Pryde raised a gloved hand, glad that his greatcoat hid his clenched fists.

“That will not be necessary,” Pryde said, and Hux’s blood ran cold. “I have deemed the _Finalizer_ not worthy of the cost of repair. As much of your crew as are able are to join us on the _Steadfast_ , and the remainder will be left to help salvage her.”

Hux’s heart was in his throat. “But- My calculations – the most recent meeting of High Command, we discussed this-”

“And I am your _superior_ , Armitage,” Pryde snapped, and Hux bowed his head, something still ingrained in him from his youth.

The moment he realised he’d done it, he’d lifted his head to meet Pryde’s gaze, but it didn’t matter; everyone had seen the slip.

“High Command have reassessed your ship’s value, and it has been determined that it will take too long to make her serviceable again. Begin preparations to transfer to the _Steadfast_ at once.”

There was no way out of this. “Yes, Allegiant General,” Hux said quietly, but Pryde had already left the frame.

“We expect an update as soon as possible,” Griss said, before the holo-call flickered out.

The whole bridge stared at Hux, who stared at the spot where the image had been.

“… Sir?” Mitaka said meekly.

“You heard the man,” Hux ground out. “Once we have received estimates for how many crew the Steadfast can take, start organising transfers. Update me the moment we receive the information.”

Hux didn’t wait to hear any responses or questions before he fled the bridge, heart racing and throat tight, knowing he wouldn’t be able to maintain composure in front of the crew right now.

* * *

When Hux came to him, he was a mess.

He had burst into the training area, interrupting Kylo with his training droid – which consequently managed to sneak in a few hits before he used the force to shut it down.

“Hux,” He greeted, summoning a towel to his hand to wipe off his face. He wondered if Hux gave any thought to his currently bare chest, or the sheen of sweat that made his pecs glisten in the light. “You couldn’t have called?”

“I did, Supreme Leader; I received no answer,” Hux said urgently. “We have been ordered to transfer our troops to the _Steadfast_ , effective immediately.”

Kylo lifted the towel away from his face, taking in Hux’s appearance – hair falling out of its ever-perfect pomade prison, eyes red-rimmed, and overall just looking small and pathetic.

“Under whose authority?” Kylo demanded, throwing the towel to the side, advancing on Hux.

“Allegiant General Pryde,” Hux said, eyes hardening.

“Allegient General?” Kylo scoffed. “Is that a rank greater than Supreme Leader?”

Hux’s face shifted into careful neutrality, but Kylo could sense something resembling hope in him. “No, Supreme Leader.”

“Then he will have to make the request to me. Have that message relayed to him at once.” Kylo ordered. “He must not presume to control my ship.”

He didn’t miss the way that Hux’s face twitched at that, but he let it slide. “Yes, Supreme Leader.”

He watched Hux leave; he’d had a great deal to reflect on after his conversation with Hux. Where once he believed the man to be a cold, unfeeling bureaucrat, he now saw… Well, much the same, but with the addition of fantastic legs, and a hidden desire for his Supreme Leader.

The gifts that he’d given him displayed a keen observation of Kylo’s interests, and he couldn’t deny that he enjoyed them immensely; the calligraphy set was beautiful, the droid challenging, and the lightsabre had taken pride of place among his collection.

How sad, then, that he had shown Hux so little care in return.

Well, after picking through Hux’s head this morning, he had a very good idea of a few things he could do to rectify that.

* * *

There had been a great deal to stress over for the last few cycles, Hux reflected.

The Supreme Leader and Allegiant General had ended up in a week-long pissing match over who ought to give the command over the _Finalizer_. Ren’s habit of caring more about his own perceived power than orderly operations was actually useful to Hux this time around, but Hux knew that it was really just delaying the inevitable. He’d sent the report to the Supreme Leader himself, outlining that the two of the _Finalizer’s_ main engines needed to be replaced; it was a huge job, and it would be a nightmare to organise the logistics of bringing a fully functional set of engines pre-built to their location to attach them.

Not impossible, but difficult enough that it wasn’t worth expending the effort when they needed to move as soon as possible, and maintain order in the sections of the galaxy that they had managed to conquer.

Hux’s heart was torn in two as he sent that report, but it needed to be done. For the Order. There was simply no way around it… Not now that _Enric_ and his ilk had shown up, unannounced, on their doorstep.

Soon enough, he would have to convince Ren to come to his senses, and condemn the _Finalizer_ to be dealt with at another time. She would fly again one day, which was the only consolation he had. Hux just had to ensure that he lived to see the day.

The entire debacle had meant that Hux had entirely forgotten about the final Secret Admirer round, in which they were to guess who their secret admirers were. It meant that he had no gift prepared, and now he was starting to panic.

He tore through his drawers – a butterfly knife? No, no weapon would live up to the lightsabre. A bottle of Corellian Brandy? No, it was open, and one third was missing. His set of crystal decanters? No, Ren would just throw them into a wall in a fit of rage, and they were _expensive_.

What in the seven hells would the Supreme Leader want, that he could procure within the next hour?

What had others given as gifts? Romantic holo-novels were probably a no for Ren, and he couldn’t imagine Ren marching through the halls with a specialised caf thermos. What else, what else…?

… Wait.

He pulled out his datapad and made a call.

“I want you to send the photographer from the propaganda team to my quarters immediately.”

* * *

The gift was complete by the time of the party, and he was quick to place it in a box labelled “ _for your eyes only_ ”, order a droid to deliver it, and ensure the triplicate non-disclosure agreements had been signed by the photographer (under threat of death).

He’d even remembered to write something in the card -

_Black and white for the greatcoat,_

_Red for the hair._

_This book is for leverage;_

_Don’t you dare share_

He had no time for anything more elaborate – or eloquent. He would be cutting it close as it was. He’d opted to have the make-up and hair team come as well, and that had eaten into his time considerably.

Now he was ready for the final session of Secret Admirer; an occasion made all the more important by the sudden appearance of the rest of High Command, which would sow disunity like a rathtar in a nursery.

As usual, Mitaka had taken care to hang the _viscum album_ , though the mood was noticably dour. Said Lieutenant brought him another Mustafar Sunrise, a tight smile on his face.

Hux decided then that he would drink at this event, as well. There would be precious little time outside of the party for him to grieve.

The other officers trickled in, each trying to maintain a brave face, but knowing that their careers had been set back an uncertain number of years still weighed them down. Everyone knew that their jobs were already well in hand on the _Steadfast_ ; they might eventually be assigned to another Star Destroyer, and lose all their contacts and standing, starting from scratch in unfamiliar territory. Unless, Hux thought bitterly, the _Finalizer_ was saved within the next five years.

It wasn’t likely.

The table didn’t seem to want to give voice to the noose hanging over their collective heads, however, and instead focused on the novelty of the party.

“I really can’t wait to see what photo I get this time,” Thanisson said, nudging Unamo. “I think I know who it is, too! I saw a mole on Colonel Kaplan’s thigh while he was in the sonic, and it matches the legs photo absolutely perfectly!”

“Save it for the guessing portion!” Unamo chided. “There’s a structure to this event!”

“Why were you watching Colonel Kaplan in the sonic?” Mitaka questioned, giving Thanisson a sly look.

“I happened to need to use the communal restroom sonic at the same time, and my eyes wandered for the briefest moment,” Thanisson responded, nose in the air, though he smiled as the table tittered over his theatrics. “Have you enjoyed your reading material, _Dopheld_?”

“You can just _ask_ if you want to borrow it, _Petty Officer_ ,” Mitaka responded easily. A round of genuine laughter met him, even Hux finding himself amused, and Mitaka smiled shyly at him.

Peavey heaved a great sigh. “I’m going to miss this,” He said sincerely, and suddenly the table was morose again.

“Droid!” Hux yelled, slicing through the tension like a mono-molecular blade, and causing a few of the officers to jump. “More drinks!”

By the time the officers were sipping fresh drinks, the mood had already lightened a little. With a little alcohol in his system, Hux felt less inclined to wallow, and more inclined to try and have fun; just like the last party. Just one more time.

Ren had yet to join, so the gift exchange couldn’t take place yet; Hux had no problem with this, happy to let this moment last as long as possible. And the longer they stayed, the more liquor they imbibed.

“Say, haven’t you organised any music, Dopheld?” Peavey asked, tapping Mitaka on the shoulder.

“Oh – I did, sir! But I wasn’t sure...”

“Why don’t you put on something fun? I think there’s collective inebriation to start dancing!” Peavey boomed, to the delight of the other officers.

“Yes, please!” Unamo clapped her hands, and Thanisson appeared to have stars in his eyes at the mere thought of being able to show off on the dance floor.

“Why not?” Hux said, raising his glass to Mitaka. “Choose a song for us, Dopheld.”

“Of course!” Mitaka pulled out his datapad, and scrolled through a series of menus until he paused in thought. “Should I play-?”

“Just pick something!” Thanisson cried, already dragging Unamo into the middle of the room.

“A-alright,” Mitaka pressed a button, and the room’s PA speakers burst into life, playing a fast-paced song that Hux didn’t recognise.

Immediately, Peavey moved to take Mitaka to the dance floor, but Hux took pity on him and grabbed his hand first.

“May I have this dance, Dopheld?” He said smoothly, ignoring Peavey’s glare.

Mitaka seemed to be in shock. “I- I… Yes! Yes, of course!”

“Splendid.”

He led Mitaka out by the hand, and they joined those already dancing.

The style of dancing they had learned from their Academy days had been designed to be part of their physical training; it was an intensive leg workout, all high jumps, high kicks, or low squats. Naturally, most of the officers hadn’t had the opportunity to continue dance training, but physical training was still a necessary part of the daily regimen for all Starship crew, lest they lose the muscle mass necessary to walk planet-side. As such, the twirls and jumps of the Arkanis Academy dance that Hux attempted – though rusty – were quite successful, even in spite of how the room spun as much from his drinks as the dance.

Mitaka, at least, seemed to appreciate it, though the Lieutenant’s dancing was much better, in Hux’s not-so-humble opinion. Nonetheless, he gasped and clapped whenever Hux managed a particularly risky move.

Soon enough, though, his legs grew tired, and he stepped back to let Thanisson seize control of the floor. It was as though he’d never stopped his dance training, or – more likely – was young enough that it was still freshly ingrained in his muscle memory.

Mitaka joined him in stepping to the side of the dance floor, face flushed from exertion. Hux was sure he wasn’t much better, still trying to catch his breath without it being too obvious.

“That was wonderful, sir,” Mitaka said reverently, looking up at Hux.

“It was, wasn’t it?” Hux said, though Mitaka’s eyes kept glancing above his head… He looked up, and lo and behold, there was a _Viscum Album_ plant hanging above their heads.

“I suppose I owe you a secret,” Mitaka said, scratching at the back of his head. “I-”

Hux shushed him with a gloved finger over his mouth, the room spinning slightly as though he were still dancing; Mitaka, for his part, froze as though he’d been airlocked. Perhaps it was the alcohol, or perhaps it was the sense of impending doom – perhaps it was his current inability to give a single shit. Regardless, he moved his hand to cup Mitaka’s face and said, “I’m afraid I’m all out of secrets,” before pressing a chaste kiss to his lips.

When he stood straight again (Mitaka was a great deal shorter Hux), Mitaka had turned a strange shade of puce. Hux was about to ask him what was wrong, when a deep, booming voice shouted from across the room, “ _General_!”

Hux’s heart stopped for a second, the rage in Ren’s voice shaking him as he turned to the door – where Kylo Ren stood with Allegiant General Pryde.

Pryde.

Ren brought _Pryde_ to the party.

Mitaka squeaked and fled, and a moment later the music stopped. _All_ sound had stopped, as Ren’s roaring had deadened all conversation.

“What can I do for you, Supreme Leader?” Hux asked gently, every eye in the room flitting between him and Ren.

Ren seemed to be lost for a moment, as though he wasn’t sure. Then he straightened and announced, “It’s time for the gift exchange!”

Sure enough, droids started coming into the room, but Hux was bewildered as to why Ren felt the need to shout at _him_ specifically to announce that. He also ought to sniff out why the Supreme Leader had brought Pryde, of all people, into their _private_ party – so he approached Ren as the Supreme Leader sat at his usual lonesome table, Pryde standing awkwardly by his side.

“Did you require something from me, Supreme Leader?” Hux asked, standing at attention in front of Ren’s table.

“I’m afraid it will have to wait,” Ren said, indicating at the room at large – Hux followed his gaze, looking at the droids delivering gifts to the officers. “The gift giving has begun.”

Hux stood awkwardly, mind fuzzy, worrying that perhaps Ren had come to announce that Pryde had finally won him over, and they would be leaving the _Finalizer_ behind.

The thought was too much to bear, and he tried to banish it from his mind.

He turned his attention back to the room. Thanisson correctly guessed that his admirer was Colonel Kaplan. Peavey guessed Mitaka, but it turned out to be Thanisson, and thus he had to give up his gift; Unamo had been Mitaka’s, and so it went. He was just far enough away that he wasn’t certain what the gifts were, but everyone seemed delighted by what they were receiving.

“Thank you,” Hux said stiffly, when a droid approached him with his gift; a strange black box, larger than the others had been, with holes along one side, and a carrying handle on top. Hux lifted it to the table, uncertain about whether he should unbox it here, or-

“Open it,” Ren commanded. “I would like to see what is inside.”

Hux inhaled deeply, having no choice but to acquiesce. He carefully undid the handle, almost afraid that there would be some kind of incendiary device or trap waiting to spring out at him…

Oh.

As he held the box open, he saw two golden eyes, like glowing drops of honey, peer out from a tiny, fluffy black creature. It opened its tiny jaws and made a chittering sound, and his heart instantly melted.

“… A cat of some description?” He said in awe, lowering a gloved hand into its tiny enclosure, and glowing when the little creature eagerly rubbed its face against his fingers, leaning into them when he scratched at its chin.

“Fascinating,” Ren said, watching closely.

Hux looked up at him, then looked at Pryde, who looked like he would have preferred to shoot himself in the testicles than be here.

“I…” Hux hadn’t given much thought to who his admirer was, as a) he didn’t feel particularly threatened by their messages, b) he’d had much bigger things to worry about, and c) all his gifts so far had been terrible, so why would he care about keeping the last one?

But Hux felt that if he didn’t get to keep this kitten, he would kill someone.

He managed to pull his hand away from the kitten long enough to take out a heavy piece of parchment, folded and closed with a wax seal. The paper was familiar, somehow..

The moment he unfolded it, his jaw dropped open.

“Read it,” Ren said, a hint of a smile on his face.

Hux took that to mean _out loud_ , so he cleared his throat, which had become quite tight. The letters were printed in delicate, intricate, _beautiful_ red calligraphy on fine vellum.

“… My General,” He began, feeling his face heating up. “I have considered you an enemy for five years too long. I still-”

He paused long enough to shoot Ren a glare, but the Supreme Leader only shrugged and smiled.

“I still think that a clone army would be more efficient,” He read aloud. “But don’t think your dedication has gone unnoticed. I foresee a glorious future ahead for the First Order, should we work hand in hand; we need each other.”

Hux made eye contact with Ren to say the last line, “Guess who.”

“What a mysterious message,” Ren said innocently. “Who could it be?”

Hux felt as though he were in a dream. Was it possible he was dreaming? He had been rather drunk, though now adrenaline (and possibly the dancing) had burned a great deal of that away. “Is it you, Ren?”

Pryde scoffed, and Ren _kicked him_ in the shin. Hux only just managed to stifle a startled laugh.

“You are correct,” Ren said, reaching into the box to pet the cat. “I hope that you enjoy this little spukamas; I have it on good authority that you have a soft spot for felines.”

“And too-small socks?” Hux dared to ask, more confident in his position that he had been in a long time… Though he didn’t dare bring up the panties, especially not in front of Pryde.

“… Yes, well, I have another gift to make up for that,” Ren said, indicating Pryde, and Hux felt his joy heighten proportionate to how furious Pryde looked.

“I-” Ren was interrupted by an enthusiastic droid dropping his gift in front of him on the table.

“Oh,” Ren said. “I know it’s you, Hux.”

Ren moved to open the box, and Hux cried, “ _Wait_!”

Both Pryde and Ren looked at him like he’d grown another head.

“I… You should open it later,” Hux said frantically.

“… Why? It’s not a trap, is it?” Ren asked, frowning at the box.

“No, it’s just… Sensitive,” Hux said, nodding his head at Pryde without a trace of subtly.

“I _outrank_ you, you snivelling-” Pryde was silenced again by Ren, this time closing Pryde’s lips with a twitch of a finger.

“Turn around for a moment,” He said, twirling his finger at Pryde in a demeaning motion.

Pryde scowled and rolled his eyes, but did as he was told.

Hux couldn’t believe that he would have to sit and watch Ren open this. He calmed himself by picking up the little kitten, which started kneading at his tunic the moment he held it against his chest.

Ren removed the lid and looked at the book inside. It had only been printed and bound ten minutes before the party, but the cover – all black with “ _for your eyes only_ ” embossed in silver – gave nothing away.

Hux held his breath as Ren opened the first page, and his eyes went wide.

Ren turned the page, and Hux watched in silence as Ren perused the images.

“This is...” Ren said quietly, eyes glued to the pages. “Huh.”

Hux realised he was biting his lip, feeling an utter fool. Ren hadn’t read the note yet, he didn’t know why Hux had given him this, didn’t know it was supposed to be leverage over Hux…

“I didn’t realise you were so flexible,” Ren whispered, running a finger over a page.

Hux nodded mutely, scratching at the cat’s ears, desperate to explain himself.

Ren remained silent for another moment, turned to the next page, mouthed, “ _Wow_ ,” and Hux couldn’t stand it any longer.

“I’m sorry if this is inappropriate,” He said quickly, thankfully drawing Ren’s eyes away from the book. “I just… Thanisson received something similar, it’s not out of the… The _etiquette_ of the event. It was supposed to be… You would have something. Something on _me_. So you know that you can trust me. Do you… Do you understand? Dirt, as such. Something I wouldn’t want others to see. It’s… I’m not even nude! I have the coat, and the gloves, the hat, and the boots… I have the _belt_ in one shot… Kaplan sent _naked_ photos!”

Ren laughed, and Hux closed his jaw so fast his teeth clacked together painfully.

“Can I turn around now?” Pryde asked irritably.

Ren closed the book and used the force to spin Pryde around, causing him to lose his balance and fall against the table.

“Why don’t you tell the General what the plan is moving forward?” Ren said to him, voice dripping with faux sweetness.

Hux froze. This was it - the _plan going forward_. The future of his beloved ship, his loyal crew… It would all be decided now. He let the little kitten, who was starting to fuss, back into the box, and stood at attention as Pryde addressed him.

If looks could kill, Pryde would have killed Hux’s entire command crew. “It has been agreed that the _Steadfast_ will have its rear and port-side anterior engines removed to service the _Finalizer_ , to allow the Supreme Leader’s ship to continue its course towards glory,” He said, in a carefully rehearsed neutrality that nonetheless sounded like each word was torn directly from his soul.

Hux felt his own soul leave his body. “Pardon?”

Pryde’s lips twitched into a scowl. “Don’t make me repeat it.”

Hux turned to Ren. “But… The report I sent you? Did you read it? The _Steadfast_ has superior-”

“All of the advanced technology that has been integrated in the _Steadfast_ is perfectly capable of being installed on the _Finalizer_ ,” Ren said smugly, and Hux was elated to see Pryde close his eyes as though he were trying to envision his happy place.

“Thank you, Supreme Leader,” Hux said earnestly.

Ren held up the book. “Thank _you_.”

Hux nodded, cringing only a little.

A tiny meow was a perfect excuse for Hux to start to extract himself from the conversation. “I might take my leave, if it pleases you, Supreme Leader,” Hux said, bringing the kitten to his chest again; this time, she used her tiny claws to climb up to his shoulder, where entertained herself by sniffing his hair. “I will need to source items to care for my new ward.”

“It’s all already been sent to your rooms,” Ren assured him. “Pryde, you’re dismissed – unless you’d prefer to join the festivities?”

Pryde bowed stiffly to Ren, rage burning in his eyes. “I must politely decline, Supreme Leader; I have little interest in New Republic-style degenerate hedonism and debauchery.” He shot a pointed look at Hux.

“Your loss,” Ren said, waving a hand to open the room’s doors, and force-pushing Pryde through them hard enough that he hit the opposite wall in the hallway outside.

The party chatter stopped long enough for the drunk officers to crane their necks to see the commotion, but the moment the doors slid shut, the room burst back into chattering and laughter.

Ren leaned across the table and, astonishingly, took Hux’s hand in his. Hux met his eyes, squeezing Ren’s hand back as the Supreme Leader whispered, “I hope this makes up for the socks.”

Hux laughed! “ _More_ than makes up for it.”

“Did you, uh...” Ren’s gaze became heated, and Hux felt a little silly being admired when he had a kitten sitting on his shoulder, chewing on his hair, “Did you keep the panties?”

“… I did,” He said. “Would you like to arrange a time to come by and see how they look?”

“I would like that very much,” Ren replied, eyes wandering to where the kitten had started to attack Hux’s ear.

“Fething- _Ow_!” Hux cursed, reaching up to pick her up around the middle, cradling her in his arms again.

“She suits you,” Ren said amiably.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

* * *

The next day on the bridge was quiet.

There may have been a celebratory mood amongst the officers, their ship and careers having been unexpectedly saved, but most of the crew had been part of _last night’s_ celebrations, and were living through the after-effects now.

The party had only ended at the beginning of their shift, everyone too excited to go to their quarters and rest. It was fine; Ren had tasked the _Steadfast’s_ crew with managing the removal of their engines, and nothing could be done on the _Finalizer_ until that was complete. They had a smooth day of reading reports and responding to messages ahead of them. At some point, he might even wake Mitaka up from where he’d fallen asleep on his console, drooling on the keyboard.

From the view port on the bridge, Hux watched the construction workers prepare the engines for extraction, feeling bright and energetic despite not having slept a wink for going on twenty-two hours now.

Hux hadn’t stayed at the party, having left with Ren to have their own, _private_ celebration in Hux’s quarters.

Even now, the Supreme Leader was sending him holos of little Sloane, the two-month-old spukamas, curled up on his chest as he lay in Hux’s bed.

He made a note on his datapad to officially add Secret Admirer to the annual calendar.

He also made a note in his mental checklist to purchase better-fitted panties. He wondered if it would be too forward of him to have “Grand Marshall” printed over the front of them – he could think of no better way to introduce Ren to the concept.

Speaking of the devil, Ren sent him another holo, this time sans-kitten; he bit his lip to stifle a laugh at Ren’s pose, erection framed by his incredible thighs.

His final act on the bridge that day was to order a round of caf martinis for everyone, before taking his leave.

After all, when the Supreme Leader calls, an Officer must obey.


End file.
